


the in-betweens

by smellbig



Category: GLOW (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, also yeah i did not reread this at all, pls someone come talk about this w me, they are my everything rn you dont understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:01:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smellbig/pseuds/smellbig
Summary: She is a shooting star, a comet burning up, and I’m lucky to get caught in her wake, for even just a moment.-Or, Yolanda straight simping for 800 words
Relationships: Arthie Premkumar/Yolanda Rivas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	the in-betweens

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to me, needing to just be free of this grasp they have on my heart. these two are queens!! please know i did not reread or look over this once after writing first of all so just yeah accept that. also please come dm me on twitter about these two i'm crying :') @lgbtqsyd

It’s in the in-between moments that she’s like a shooting star, floating down to her pillow as her breath slows, looking at me, half-lidded, smiling.

I catch her as she’s heading into the shower, exposed, unexpecting, and she glows like Vegas lights when I turn her to me, sexy like she doesn’t know it.

We spend hours on the lounge chairs next to our pool, her giggling like a schoolgirl as the sun shines on her golden skin, naked in our backyard. She still sometimes thinks someone’s watching her from afar as she tans out back, but it’s only me, turning on my side and throwing whatever magazine I was reading across the grass so I can get closer to her, and feel her sun-kissed skin beneath my fingertips, my lips, on mine.

She is so beautiful, and I whisper at night how much I love her, deep inside her as she writhes above me, begging, and it makes me explode. She is a shooting star, a comet burning up, and I’m lucky to get caught in her wake, for even just a moment.

Arthie pulls at my hair, brings me back up to her face, and I shiver. “I’m so fucking lucky,” and it comes out as a moan, needy; she’s the only one I’ve ever been like this for, so submissive and wanting, gasping for air as I try not to drown in her love.

“God,” she murmurs, kissing me, but religion has nothing to do with this. Our love transcends ancient teachings, it’s holier than books in script, it’s angelic and I tug at her bra, asking for more, because it’s never enough.

And in the in-betweens, when she thinks she’s alone, washing dishes at the sink or feeding our cat, that’s when I can’t help myself. I trace her outline on my thigh and wait for her to turn to me, so I can see her smile again, feel her orbit swing back towards me. I’m like the sun, waiting forever for her to come back, swing back on her cosmic orbit and let me touch her as she passes by. 

I can’t stop staring.

She plays with my hair in the morning, believing that I’m sleeping, and I wonder what she’s thinking about. Maybe she’s reciting lines in her head, trying to remember what comes next. Later I’ll ask if she wants to study up, but it always ends the same, with me distracting her somehow from the script she’s studying and waiting for her in the bedroom. She’ll drop the booklet, taking off her sweater in a fluid motion, already knowing what I’m waiting for.

“I love it when you’re needy like this,” she murmurs into my teeth, and I grasp at her butt, hosting her around my hips.

And I reply, “Baby, I’m always needy for you,” because it’s true, I’m always desiring her skin against mine, and she just hums in response, pulling at my shirt before I’ve even shut the door to keep the cat from interrupting.

I’m willing to spin for her, let her cold, nimble fingers dance around me like I dance around the pole; she’s asking for a private show and how can I say no? It’s not like at the club, where I swat away curious hands and nod to the bouncer in the corner to collect the drunk schmuck in front of me. No, with Arthie I’m begging for her to touch me, to feel me, to touch my skin and burn me. She was timid the first time, biting her lip and making me ache. But now she knows the game, her eyes glinting as she lets me get as close as I can before she can’t hold it back anymore, and I get it because I feel the same. It’s all I can think of when I’m at the club, her fingers exploring me day after day, each inch of skin a new adventure for her, no matter how many times we’ve tangoed before. 

She’s like a flash every morning, up before the sunrise to bring me tea and cradle me in the bed. It was a whole fuss when we bought it, since I like it plush but she likes something more firm. When we compromised I saw her grow, her confidence building. “So that’s what it’s like?” she says, and I know what she’s thinking.  _ This  _ is what it feels like, to be in love and make sacrifices, and I almost kiss her right there, in the middle of the mattress store because she’s so goddamn beautiful and I couldn’t care what people think anymore.

So when I’m dancing and I see her at the edge of the stage, surprising me, I think of the in-betweens, the moments where she is the brightest, like neon up in lights and I yearn for her the most. She’s burning like a shooting star and I’m just trying to keep up with her as she glows through the night, teasing me.


End file.
